


a voice on the phone

by Thatbookishgirl



Series: A Wolf and his Boy [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Long-Distance Friendship, M/M, Mutual Pining, NSFW Art, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rimming, Scarred Peter, Smut, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Tattooed Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-06 15:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8759368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatbookishgirl/pseuds/Thatbookishgirl
Summary: After the Hale fire Peter distances himself from the entire pack. He remains in the pack but travels and keeps in contact. While he is away the pack grows and gains a new emissary. This emissary is one Stiles Stilinski and he develops quite the friendship with Peter over the phone. They've talked almost daily for years and have never seen each other's faces and feelings have been developing along the way, but something happens that forces them to finally meet. What happens then?rating increases in chapter 2.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers for Deadpool: Dracula's Gauntlet, fyi.

                Peter hadn’t been to Beacon Hills since the fire. He was still a strong member of the Hale pack, but the incident left him both figuratively and metaphorically scarred. Following the fire, he had been in a medicated coma for several months while he healed. Everything recovered aside from his skin. He hated how he looked and it fueled his need to leave. He had once been handsome and feared, now people only looked on him with pity or disgust. So he spent his time traveling and gathering intel for his pack while also working on his writing. He could hide in his anonymity and strangers were more likely to avert their gaze instead of letting it linger. A lot had changed since he left; they had a new emissary, one Stiles Stilinski. Not his real first name but the boy seemed dead set on going by Stiles instead of his legal name. Peter knew it, looked it up once, and began to laugh into the empty room as he read it. No wonder he insisted on something else.

                They spoke every few days and had for nearly two years. Peter was often helping other packs with their problems, politically and of the monster or hunter variety. One day he called to speak to Derek and Deaton only to hear an unfamiliar voice. Then he heard a struggle as Derek wrestled the phone away and explained who this new person was, their emissary who was only 19 but powerful and as brave as was idiotic. He could hear Stiles sassing Derek in the background and could almost hear Derek rolling his eyes. From that point on Peter had regular contact with Stiles. It was purely business at first, only discussing the current problems with other packs or their own. But, eventually, they began sharing personal stories and problems, and talking in their free time and becoming close friends, despite their 12-year age gap.

                Talking to Stiles was one of the easiest things he had ever done. The boy was quick-witted and brilliant. He made Peter laugh and was always asking about his travels. Apparently he had always wanted to travel but didn’t really have the time while serving as pack emissary, and he never wanted to stray far from his father. Peter envied his closeness with the others. But their friendship was becoming one of the most valued things in Peter’s life. Even though he didn’t wish to be back in Beacon Hills, he’d be willing to visit. Maybe. If he had a good reason. Being stuck in the outskirts of Wyoming right now, Beacon Hills was looking good.

                One morning he was thumbing through some paperwork when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

**_Stiles_ ** _: have you gotten the mail yet?_

**_Peter_ ** _: yes. Just the usual bills and other nonsense. Why?_

**_Stiles_ ** _: damn. I sent you something and I hoped it would be there by now._

**_Peter_ ** _: is it pack related?_

**_Stiles_ ** _: nope. Just an early birthday present._

**_Peter_ ** _: you didn’t need to do that._

**_Stiles_ ** _: but I wanted to, grumpywolf._

**_Peter_ ** _: we talked about you calling me that._

**_Stiles_ ** _: that we did. Are you busy right now?_

**_Peter_ ** _: no. I am only trying to sift through this dribble that Arnosky pack sent me. They are woefully unorganized._

                His phone started ringing within seconds.

                “Hello, Stiles,” Peter grinned.

                “Hi, my second-favorite werewolf,” Stiles laughed.

                “Second?” Peter faux pouted.

                “Like I could possibly like you better than Scott,” Stiles scoffed, “But you definitely beat Derek. I can’t imagine you trying to stare me down into submission. Which wouldn’t work anyway, but he just keeps trying.”

                “Derek has never been particularly great at communicating,” Peter joked, “But what do I owe the pleasure?”

                “Ehh, feeling down today. Felt like whining to you about it,” Stiles sighed.

                “Oh? Am I your preferred bitching partner?” Peter jeered.

                “Obviously,” Stiles responded, “So, last night I went out on that blind date Lydia set up and it was a disaster. I already didn’t want to go but I agreed because Lydia. There’s no saying ‘no’ to her, generally. I went and he was the neediest, little shit. If my attention drifted anywhere else, even my drink, he would give me this look like I kicked him. Then, when I spotted Danny and Jackson there and waved them over he got all…I dunno, clingy. And possessive, but not in the sexy way.”

                “You find possessiveness sexy?” Peter sought.

                “When it’s done the right way, hell yes. Someone looks me over or tries to touch me and my partner growls or puts their hands all over me in this jealous, primal way without being a dick about it. It sort of gets me going. But this dude, Matt, just kept standing between me and the others with this sort of dodgy edge. He was making space between us and trying to divert my attention from them and interrupting conversation. If he had just leaned into me and marked his territory without pulling me away from everyone I wouldn’t have told him off later. Does that make sense?” Stiles explained.

                “It does. I have been known, years ago, to behave in a similar manner with my partners. Some responded well while others didn’t care for it. I find it is better to be physical and loving when being possessive of your mate instead of trying to control them,” Peter expressed.

                “That’s what I’m saying. He was just…I didn’t like it. Then Danny and Jackson started having one of their classic spats. This time about how Jackson let himself get thrown off a roof during our latest monster mash. Of course, they had to speak in vagaries what with all the humans not in the know. They fought for about 20 minutes, all while myself and Matt watched and Matt kept trying to drag me away. But I had to stay because even though Jackson was in danger his actions were somewhat necessary. Which I told Danny and eventually he calmed down. Then they ended up having semi-angry makeup sex in the bathroom. I could hear Danny begging for his knot when I wandered in, thinking they were done by that point. Matt is a werewolf, by the way, and he heard this too and tried to get me to come home with him after. I said ‘no thanks’ and said good night. Now, don’t get me wrong, I would love to enjoy something like that. I’ve never slept with a werewolf, but from what Danny tells me, it sounds like a grand time. I just didn’t want it to be Matt and I didn’t want to be out with him anyway. So, yea. That was my night,” Stiles rambled.

                “Well, quite eventful. Mine is so blasé by comparison. I watched that film you kept prattling on about and then went for a walk before falling into bed a somewhat reasonable hour,” Peter droned.

                “No hot dates or forced blind ones for you?” Stiles hummed.

                “Afraid not. Though, blind might be preferable. Actually blind, I mean. I’m not particularly pleasant to look at. Which I’m sure you’ve heard,” Peter sighed.

                “I have. But I’m a firm believer of loving people for what’s on the inside and all that. I also might have been super into _Beauty and the Beast_ when I was younger. And _Phantom of the Opera_ , though I prefer my men to not be stalkery murderers,” Stiles joked, “Oh! I bet you could find someone who would love to indulge in some roleplay, really lean into the Phantom mask useage.”

                 “Of course,” Peter laughed, “but the nature of the play is simply that. ‘Play’. Once the mask comes off you will find few wanting to spend much more time with someone who looks as I do.”

“Sounds like you have a lot of people missing out on some very witty, post-coital banter,” Stiles soothed with a light chuckle.

“It has been about 7 years since there has been anything remotely post-coital,” Peter grimaced to himself.

“That is a crime. I’ve seen a picture of you from before and you were a stone-cold fox. Or wolf, in this case. And I doubt you look as horrifying as you seem to think you do,” Stiles pressed.

“No need to placate me, Stiles. I know what I am. Wouldn’t you rather discuss the film I watched?” Peter redirected the conversation.

                “Wait, which movie did you watch?!” Stiles shouted out excitedly, knowing what Peter was doing but allowing it to happen.

                “ _The Avengers_. Quite good, though I find the premise somewhat unbelievable,” Peter began.

                “Obviously. I mean, there’s no 100-year-old super soldiers running around or aliens who are gods. But werewolves are real. And so are dozens of other things I was specifically told were not real. So suspending your disbelief isn’t so ridiculous,” Stiles countered with a chuckle.

                “I suppose you’re right. However, did you watch the film that I suggested?” Peter pressed.

                “You mean _The Fall_ , the one directed by Tarsem Singh?” Stiles confirmed.

                “Exactly that one. So?” Peter continued.

                “I did. It was beautiful. The cinematography and costumes were extraordinary and the actors they chose were astounding. Just – I mean – all of it. So brilliant,” Stiles raved.

                “Did you find yourself tearing up at any point?” Peter perplexed.

                “Maybe,” Stiles said playfully.

                “Tell me,” Peter demanded with a smile.

                “That scene with the little girl right before the little Claymation interlude?! Holy shit! I lost it. Derek and Liam walked in to find me crying my damn eyes out. Teased me for the next 2 days. So I blame you for my temporary humiliation. Though, I find it ridiculous that I was made to feel bad for showing emotion. I will be having a talking to with them about their antiquated ideals about masculinity,” Stiles went on.

                “I am glad you enjoyed it, though. It is my favorite film. After the fire it was one of the first films I watched and it was spectacular,” Peter recalled.

                “Next one you should watch is Deadpool. Super crass but its excellent,” Stiles suggested.

                “The one with the mercenary who is also sometimes a hero? Red and black suit?” Peter questioned.

                “Yes. Seriously great. If you watch that then I’ll watch _Abres Los Ojos_. A nice movie exchange,” Stiles mused.

                “I agree to your terms,” Peter laughed.

                “So, wanna play chess over the phone? Everyone here is rubbish at it except Lydia. And I’m tired of her mocking when she beats me,” Stiles asked.

                “Are you implying that you’ll beat me?” Peter grinned.

                “Perhaps. I’m pretty good,” Stiles teased.

                “Fine. I’ll set up the board on my end and we will play until you accept my superiority on this matter,” Peter laughed again and they both got ready. They ended up playing for another hour while discussing books and the case the Arnosky’s were grappling with. Stiles generally had excellent advice but not having gone up against that particular brand of monster himself and only relying on books he could only offer support and potential plans of action. Peter told Stiles he was easily the wisest emissaries he had met in a long time despite his young age. Stiles was blushing, not that Peter could see it. By the end of the game Peter was the clear winner. Stiles somewhat gracefully accepted defeat and told his wolf to have a good night.

                Peter found himself staring wistfully out the window after the call ended. He loved his talks with Stiles as most of his other interactions were cold or all surface-level. He hardly knew the pack he was currently staying with in southern Wyoming and couldn’t imagine talking with any of them the way he talked to Stiles. He wondered what Stiles looked like. Sure, the boy had been described a few times; tall and lanky with dark hair and a wide smile. Some said he had freckles and moles on his pale skin. Were he a younger man he would have pursued someone like Stiles. He would have dominated him in bed and dragged his fingers roughly through Stiles’ hair and marking up his pale skin. He’d knot him like he wanted and leave the man whimpering below him, begging for more as Peter gave it to him. But that was before. He no longer feels strong or desirable.

 

 

 

                When Peter woke up the next morning he found his phone blinking with several unread messages;

**_Stiles (2:30am)_ ** _: PEeeeter. Scott asked Kira to marry him and she said yes! Wee’re celebrating so I’m wicked drunkk._

**_Stiles (2:52am)_ ** _: Wish you were here, man. Bet you’re fun when you drink. Would oyu dance with me? Everyone else is too laaaame to._

**_Stiles (3:01am)_ ** _: You have suchh pretty eyes. I think about them all the time._

**_Stiles (3:09am)_ ** _: Peeterr. Wish you were here so bad._

**_Stiles (3:13am)_ ** _: Fuck, peter. Gonna be so hungover when I call you tomorrow. Gotta be nice my cute grumpywolf._

                That was the last one and Peter was laughing to himself as he thought of a drunk Stiles fumbling through the night. Despite his ability to get drunk with alcohol laced with wolfsbane he hadn’t bothered to. When he got a little tipsy he might fall into old patterns that would be less than ideal given his current state. So he kept to himself. He was changing his clothes when he heard a knock at his door.

                “Peter? Its Clara. We’re starting breakfast soon if you want to join us,” she informed from the hallway.

                “I’ll come down shortly. Thank you, dear,” Peter answered and he heard her patter away down the steps. Clara was an 8-year-old girl who seemed entirely unaffected by Peter’s scars as she didn’t shy away from them at all. She would clamor onto his shoulders sometimes and demand a piggy back ride, her face usually resting near his scarred neck. When he made it down to the kitchen there was a table filled with plates of pancakes, sausage, and fruit. He took a spot on one side of the table next to Clara with her eldest brother, Frederick, on the other side. Frederick was in his early twenties and incorrigible. He was brash and reckless and, basically, the reason Peter had to come. The man managed to lure a Gulah into their territory. While technically a Djinn there was not much known about them other than the fact that they were female and clever. There were a lot of people at risk and it was imperative that they take care of the problem.

                “So, Peter, any leads on how to handle our problem?” Eric, the Arnosky alpha, asked.

                “Some. There is not much information on the Gulah beyond some very basic information, but my emissary is hard at work trying to come up with a solution. We should have a perfect plan of attack soon enough,” Peter stated.

                “Good. I’ve been concerned about it coming even closer to the house. I worry about letting any of the younger of my pack out at night, too afraid they’ll be tricked,” Eric revealed.

                “It would be wise that no one travel alone for the time being. When we patrol tonight I think we should double our numbers. If she does attack we will have the upper hand,” Peter suggested.

                “That is a good idea,” Rebecca, one of the betas, agreed.

                “When would you want to go out tonight?” Eric asked his second.

                “Probably close to 9:00pm. The sun is setting shortly after 8:00pm so we can head out under the cover of darkness,” the blonde man responded.

                “Peter, you have a package by the front door!” Clara chirped. The girl had a spark like Stiles and seemed to have a certain level of clairvoyance that had very little direction with her young age. She wouldn’t control it well and found herself only being able to predict small events.

                “Thank you, darling. I’ll fetch it now as long as you don’t touch my pancakes,” he teased and rose from his chair. She giggled as he booped her nose. There was, indeed, a package on the steps addressed to him. From Stiles, which was apartment by the crude drawing of a wolf in a birthday hat on the box. He chuckled to himself and carried it inside, tucking it under his arm to unwrap later.

                “What is it?” Clara pled.

                “A gift from my emissary. Nothing you need to worry about. How was your morning? Any funny visions to share?” Peter indulged the child.

                “Yea! I saw some birds’ eggs hatching and then a woman dropping a tray of muffins. And I saw you taking a super duper long nap,” she reported.

                “A nap? Well, that’s very strange as I don’t take naps,” Peter took a bite of his pancakes.

                “But you did. I swear,” she professed and sat up on her knees.

                “Ok, if I do take a super long nap I’ll give you a 10-minute piggy back ride. Deal?” Peter challenged.

                “Deal,” she tilted her chin up proudly.  

                After breakfast Peter made his way up to the guest room where he was staying. He closed the door and delicately placed the package on the bed. He checked his phone again to find no new messages, not unusual, but was only somewhat disappointed to see nothing from Stiles. De sat on the bed and opened the mail. Inside was a letter and then what felt like a book wrapped in festive paper. He beamed when he saw the letter and the handwriting. It was sloppy and long, which is everything he expected from someone like Stiles.

_Dear Grumpywolf,_

_Super wish you would visit us at least once so we can celebrate your birthday in style. I can make magic twinkly lights that fill the room. It’s so pretty. I swear. So I spent a lot of time thinking about what to get you and after exhaustive searching I decided to get you something that I really enjoy and I think you might like too. Fair warning, it’s really nerdy and not usually your style but I have a feeling you would like it. At least a little bit. You have to watch the movie after you read it. Ok? Like, its super important that you do. Then call me after so I finally have someone to talk to about it. Someone who won’t just brush of one of my varied interests. Happy Birthday, Peter. Seriously, visit us next time._

_Love Stiles._

 

                Love. That seemed odd, but it was a common way to end a letter to someone you cared about, right? He was sure Stiles probably ended all of his letters to pack members that way and he wasn’t going to dwell on it anymore. He picked up the present with a playful wolf print and dutifully unwrapped it. He was now holding a comic book. Specifically, a volume of comics called _Deadpool: Dracula’s Gauntlet_. He gasped out a loud laugh as he looked over the cover and read the back. Stiles was certainly a character and surprised him at every turn. He picked up his phone and dialed Stiles right away.

                “Hello,” Stiles groaned.

                “Are you certain this was not a gift for yourself?” Peter chuckled into the phone.

                “Aww, you got my present?” Stiles yawned.

                “I did. I haven’t read it yet, but I do look forward to it. Seems very much to be at your alley,” Peter sighed.

                “It is. He’s one of my favorite characters. Much more complex than people think he is,” Stiles’s voice was a bit rough, “Plus, I’m way into him. I mean, he has been in some of my masturbatory fantasies.” He burped loudly on the other end.

                “How hungover are you?” Peter sought.

                “Not too much. I made a concoction that should knock it completely out of my system in 15 minutes,” Stiles sang out.

                “Good. I don’t want my emissary suffering any longer for his drunken antics,” Peter mocked.

                “You are making fun of me,” Stiles whined.

                “I certainly am. I did enjoy waking up to your drunk texts, though,” Peter snickered.

                “Oh god,” Stiles mumbled into his pillow.

                “I promise you weren’t too terrible. When I was your age I would have said far worse things,” he soothed.

                “Let me see what damage I’ve done,” Stiles pulled his face from the phone to scroll through his sent messages, “Ok. Ok. Not…it definitely could have been worse. Thank god.”

                “I should congratulate Scott later,” Peter began, “And to answer your question, of course I would dance with you. But I feel like you’d probably step on my feet the entire time.”

                “Would not!” Stiles scoffed, “I am graceful and elegant.”

                “I doubt that somewhat,” Peter teased.

                “I’m gonna show you if we ever actually cross paths in real life. That’s a promise too,” Stiles challenged.

                “I’ll hold you to that,” Peter breathed out playfully, “Why would you buy me a Deadpool comic? I don’t know much about him beyond what you’ve told me.”

                “Just read it and you’ll see what I mean. I swear. Besides, he’s super sexy so at least you’ll enjoy the view,” Stiles paused for a minute, “I might throw up. Fuck. Can I call you back later?”

                “If you want to. I’ll be reading this comic and pretending like it isn’t odd for me to do so. If I do it in front of the pack they might raise eyebrows. Though, I’m sure this won’t be appropriate for Clara to see,” Peter went on.

                “Definitely do not let the child see it,” Stile hiccupped, “I’ll at least text you tonight. Ok?” He could hear Stiles faintly wretching in the background.

                “Poor dear. Do rest up and I’ll talk to you later,” Peter wished he could bring Stiles some comfort.

                “You called me ‘dear’,” Stiles giggled, “Bye, grumpywolf.”

                Peter set his phone down and tried to conjure up an image of Stiles in his mind. He had been trying to match a face to his voice for almost a year. No matter how much he wanted to see Stiles he wanted his own face far from this interaction. He pushed that from his mind and picked up the comic. From the start it didn’t seem much different than what he expected; there was a masked man saving a blonde woman from distress. Deadpool jumped from a helicopter, saving the woman and he was sure to either kiss her or let her on her way. But once he got the end of the first chapter he saw Deadpool lift his mask. The skin was marred and splotchy. The woman, understandably, freaked out and ran away.

                Peter quickly shut the book and furrowed his brow. He tensed and angrily wondered why Stiles would give him this. Then he remembered what Stiles had said. He referred to Deadpool as ‘sexy’ and referenced previous masturbation fantasies about said character. There must be something more going on about this character. But the sight was unsettling. He didn’t want to read page after page of some masked, deformed man get turned down. He took a deep breath and picked the book back up.

                The next parts of the story were a bit more interesting; a meeting with Dracula to fetch something from a tomb and then fighting a minotaur at a zoo. Fantastical and absurd, something he would definitely associate with Stiles. His face was revealed a few more times but no points were made draw attention to the grotesque nature of his appearance. Flipping to the next page he is now greeted by a beautiful woman in purple, seemingly haven broken out of the coffin Deadpool had been haphazardly dragging through the streets.

                Oh. They’re kissing. But it seems to have killed him. He thought Deadpool was incapable of dying? Now he’s alive again. Ok, at least he remembered it correctly. And the fighting and drama continued as they find a vampire hunter named Blade and she transforms into a beast. Most unexpected. The rest of the story involved more characters, schemes, and fighting. But he was seeing something more develop between Deadpool and this Shiklah woman, and Deadpool seemed to be acting somewhat selflessly towards her. They’ve kissed again and Peter feels something unfurl in his chest. He pushes past it to move forward in the story.

                Werewolves. Of course there would be werewolves. There were vampires earlier. He wondered if Stiles thought it was particularly funny. Now Frankenstein’s monster and a mummy are involved. And mascots? Or something? Peter was wondering why Stiles loved this character so much. He was certainly a smartass like Stiles was. Certainly impressive in his abilities. The character was dynamic and charming despite his skin, teetering somewhere between pride and shame. At the end of the story Peter was torn. This Deadpool, Wade, was now married to this beautiful and powerful being. She thinks he’s handsome. She wants to love and soothe him. Peter threw the book into the corner and shoved his phone into his side drawer. His chest ached and he wanted nothing more than to be out in the woods.

 

                Peter had been out for about an hour. It was cold and crisp out, leaves and branches breaking beneath his boots as he walked. He had been angry before, but now he just felt despair. He wasn’t a charismatic hero who finds love despite the scars running across his body. It was getting dark and he needed to head back to help with patrolling for the night. But he really just wanted to be alone. He pulled his hat down further on his forehead and wrapped his scarf tighter. He picked up a second heartbeat nearby. It was faint, but close. He slowly made his way to the closest tree and pressed his body to it and listened. The heartbeat was closer, yet there were no footsteps. The heartbeat sounded like it was circling him somehow. He decided to make his move toward the house, cutting through the adjacent field. Peter didn’t make it far before he was face to face with a tall woman. She had dark skin and dark hair, her eyes a faint silver and boring into him as she glided closer to him.

                “Hello, wolf. Fancy running into you here,” she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

                “Oh yes. Nice to meet you, Gulah. You have been quite the nuisance as of late,” Peter sneered.

                “Awww, the beast seems upset. What got your knickers in a bunch?” she purred.

                “Perhaps the people you’ve killed?” Peter grunted and felt his claws lengthen at his sides.

                “The means to an end,” she shrugged.

                “I highly suggest you surrender. The pack will be along soon and you’ll be greatly outnumbered,” his fangs dropped and he ground his feet to the earth.

                “Poor fool. They won’t be here in time,” suddenly the Gulah was ascending on Peter with fury and bloodlust in her eyes. She seized on his and he fell to the ground. His scream was deafening, alerting the nearby pack to come to him. Hopefully before he died in a snow-swept field beneath a Djinn.

 

 

**_Stiles_ ** _: have you read it yet?_

**_Stiles_ ** _: Dude, it’s been like 3 hours. You had to have read it._

**_Stiles_ ** _: Peeeter! I swear to Christ, I’m begging you to talk about the comic with me. Indulge my interests._

**_Stiles_ ** _: Frederick called and said you were attacked but won’t say anything more. Answer your phone damnit!_

**_Stiles_ ** _: answer your phone!_

**_Stiles_ ** _: don’t you fucking die you don of a bitch!_

                “Derek! We are buying plane tickets right now!” Stiles shouted down the stairs as he threw clothes and books into a bag.

                “Lydia is on it, ok! Stop panicking. If he was dead they would have told us,” Derek yelled back.

                “That is not comforting,” Stiles growled and barreled down the stairs.

                “Why are you freaking out so much? He’s going to be ok. They killed the Djinn and he’s not going to die,” Scott pressed.

                “He could die!” Stiles argued.

                “Stiles. I promise he’s going to be fine. I didn’t have any visions of his death. Just get on the plane and tend to your pack member. Derek is already putting his bag, and mine, in the car. We’ll be there in a few hours,” Lydia was squeezing Stile’s shoulders in an attempt to calm him but he was so worked up she knew it was futile.  

                “Let’s go,” Derek ordered from the doorway. Stiles had no hesitation as Lydia trailed him. The drive was quiet and pensive and they sped to the airport. Lydia kept her hand in Stiles’, giving it a squeeze every now and again. She, like Stiles, had never met Peter. They only ever spoke over the phone or through email. Peter was clever and quick, much like Stiles. But she knew the story, everyone did. Peter was afraid to come home. He felt he failed the pack when he was unable to pull his own sister and new wife from the fire and unable to heal from the scars the flames left behind. But she had watched Stiles grow close to Peter despite the distance. The boy lit up whenever Peter called. Once he was chatting with Peter in the pack house while pacing through every room, candles lighting magically as he moved. Even the lights dimmed and fireplace set ablaze. Derek had to spring forward to open the floo so the house didn’t fill with smoke. But Stiles was in Peter-land and hardly made note of it.

                Stiles didn’t say a word as they boarded the plane. Lydia and Derek both saw sparks faintly glowing beneath the tattoos on his arms. After the plane took off Stiles slip back into the seat and Lydia knew, within seconds, that he just astral projected himself elsewhere.

 

 

                Peter was half-conscious in his hospital bed as he watched a werewolf nurse check over his vitals. He felt like he was hallucinating when this blue glow hovered near him but no one else seemed to notice it. He was in pain. Tremendous pain. Everything felt close and faraway all at once. He doesn’t know what Gulah did to him but he wasn’t healing. He looked back to where the blue light was and saw a man. Or boy. He was tall with dark hair and he looked irate. But he was…nearly opaque. See-through. He could’ve passed right through him.

                “Don’t you dare die. Or I will bring you back to life and kill you myself,” he hissed.

                “Stiles?” Peter thought before he passed out from the jolt of pain that shot through his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> smuuutttt and fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i decided to add a part 3! wanted to flesh the whole story out a bit more.

                It had to be hours later. At least. It was dark outside, the blinds still open to let moonlight pour into the room. He took a deep breath and smelled something familiar, something like home. He moved to sit up and felt the pain had receded. He could lift his arms and turn his head fully now. We he looked towards the door he saw Derek slumped on a couch with a red-headed girl passed out halfway across his lap. He didn’t know they were here. Or why they would come. He was attacked by a creature, not dying. He picked up on another, slower heartbeat in the room and looked across the room. There was another hospital bed with that boy he saw before. He was hooked up to his own IV and clearly passed out. Maybe he didn’t hallucinate the boy that sounded like Stiles.

                “You’re awake,” Derek yawned from where he sat, the girl rousing as well.

                “Yes…when did you arrive? And why?” Peter winced as he sat up. While there was no active pain there were certainly some wounds still stitching themselves together on his chest.

                “They said you were attacked and you weren’t answering your phone. Stiles flipped his lid and demanded we fly out,” Derek explained. The red head was giving him a long look while she pulled her hair back into a loose bun.

                “Is that…?” Peter looked back to the other bed.

                “Yes. That is Stiles. He was freaking out the whole way here. He even astral projected to your room briefly when we were on the plane. And as soon as he got here he exhausted nearly all of his energy and magic healing you. That’s why he’d in that bed. He needed fluids and rest. Lucky us your room was big enough,” the girl explained, “I’m Lydia, by the way. I’m glad I finally get to meet you. Even under these circumstances.”

                “I should say I am glad as well,” Peter turned his head so that his scars were not as noticeable. He felt vulnerable in this moment.

                “How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?” Derek was on his feet and holding Peter’s arm.

                “I might be hungry. How long have I been out?” Peter asked.

                “At least 12 hours. I’ll go down and get you some food. I’ll get something for Stiles too. I’m guessing he is going to wake up soon enough,” Derek attempted a smile before ducking out to find the cafeteria.

                “So. Gulah attack. Pretty exotic for Wyoming. We thought Wendigos would be the biggest concern, but then a Djinn showed up. Through Stiles for a loop,” Lydia laughed. Peter was just staring at Stiles now, the pale boy taking small breaths. He was enraptured with what he saw in that bed; beautiful skin, chocolate brown hair, a strong nose and jaw, with pink lips that Peter could easily spend hours kissing. Gorgeous. Stiles was breathtaking.

                “Ya know, as soon as he saw you Stiles looked like he might implode. He touched your hair and immediately started chanting. His skin was glowing and your machines went off the charts. I think he drained all his juice to fix you,” she smiled, “Kept on mumbling ‘Pete can’t die before we finally talk about it’ and then he passed out right on the floor. Derek had to haul him over there and was none too pleased about it.”

                “Will you help me over to him?” Peter was struggling to stand as he felt a desperate pull to get to Stiles’ bed.

                “Yea,” Lydia hooked her arm in his and guided him to the chair next to Stiles. Peter wasted no time entwining his fingers with Stiles’ before slowly drifting off as his head rested near the emissary’s.

 

 

                Peter was waking up in a bed again, but this time he was wrapped around a warm body. He flinched and sat up all the way, his eyes finding Derek who was just smirking from where he was lounging on Peter’s hospital bed.

                “Don’t look at me. You’re the one who climbed up there in your sleep and then Stile was grumbling that he was cold and you two just decided to cuddle away,” the alpha taunted.

                “It’s cute. And probably what you both need anyway,” Lydia popped her bubblegum.

                “I should go,” Peter tensed.

                “Don’t you dare, grumpywolf. I am way too comfortable,” Stiles yawned.

                “Stiles?” Peter tested.

                “The one and only. Now get back down here. I need your body heat to finish recharging. I figure you owe me after the emotional rollercoaster you sent me on,” he chided.

                “I – this is unusual for me,” Peter tested.

                “You should consider yourself lucky. Stiles usually only cuddles with me,” Lydia laughed.

                “Yea. It’s hilarious,” Derek deadpanned.

                “Awww, sourwolf. Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” Stiles yawned.

                “You do. It gives you more excuses to scent mark me all over,” Lydia smirked and climbed into his lap.

                “But then Stiles smells like you and my wolf goes a little crazy,” Derek confided.

                “I have never heard either of you complaining. Lydia and I passed out in a drunk pile the other night and after you scented her and got a whiff of me I heard very distinct dirty talk and headboard rattling coming from your room. I consider this to be a beneficial situation for you. Wanna climb over here, Lyds? See if we can make him so disgruntle his eyebrows disappear?” Stiles snickered.

                “You’re such a little shit,” Derek groaned.

                “Be nice. I just saved your uncle. And we both know your wolf is going to explode if it smells two people on Lydia,” Stiles laughed.

                “I do not want to encourage this,” Peter mumbled into the pillow.

                “But you’re gonna,” Stiles turned and pressed his face to Peter’s chest.

                “So, we voted on this on the way here. Regardless of how healed you are or anything like that, you’re coming back to Beacon Hills with us. We want you back. You’ve be gone for so long and Stiles is going to whine forever if you don’t,” Lydia announced.

                “But what about – “

                “No. Coming home with us,” Stiles grumbled.

                “I’m going to go talk with the nurse about when you’ll be able to check out. You seem to both be healed up, if not just tired,” Derek walked from the room and before Peter could say anything he found Stiles asleep again.

                “He really wore himself out. He’s probably going to be in and out of it. I’ll get him some coffee and he’ll perk right up,” Lydia hummed.

                “He’s very…clingy,” Peter observed as Stiles seemed to wrap around him like a snake.

                “He’ll do that. He’s extremely tactile and you’d think he was touch-starved but we know better,” the red head replied, “He was a wreck, you know? When we didn’t know how you were. He nearly socked the nurse that wouldn’t let him into your room at first.”

                “I didn’t realize he cared so much,” Peter sighed. He pressed his nose to Stiles’ hair and took a deep breath. The boy smelled like honey and cinnamon and copper. And something faintly smokey. It calmed him.

                “Are you kidding?” Lydia cocked her eyebrow but Derek was already walking back in.

                “You might technically be leaving against medical advice, but we don’t have to stay if you’re ready to leave,” Derek had papers in his hands, “Did Stiles fall back asleep?”

                “He did,” Peter whispered and brushed Stiles’ hair back.

                “I vote we leave. Stiles is not opposed to being carried. And we can drive back. Everyone loves a good roadtrip,” Lydia smirked. Derek just gave her a hard look and she leaned forward while batting her eyelashes, “Please?” She was too smart to resort to this tactic but knew Derek was more likely to melt is she just leaned into appealing to his more primal urges.

                “Fine,” Derek relented and rolled his eyes.

                “Thank you, D,” she kissed his cheek and looked towards Peter for some sort of agreement. If he was honest, he hated the idea of weeding through an airport and dodging glances. Being in a car where he could hunker down and listen quite conversation from Stiles while the landscape whipped by.

                “I’ll get a rental car. You have to pick places to stop on the way,” Derek kissed the tip of her nose and nodded at Peter. He and Stiles were still tangled up on the bed and Peter slowly tried to pry himself the emissary’s arms but it was a struggle. After another hour everyone was awake and ambulatory. They all made their way to the home of the Arnosky pack to collect Peter’s belongings. Derek and Lydia spoke with the family and thanked them for taking care of Peter following his attack. Clara buzzed past everyone and went straight up to Peter’s room.

                “Peter! You owe me a piggy back ride!” the little girl sassed as she bound onto the bed.

                “It seems I do,” Peter smiled.

                “Because you took a very long nap. Just like I said,” she crossed her arms over her chest and grinned.

                “You did. I should know better than to doubt your visions, little one,” Peter pat her head.

                “This is adorable,” Stiles snickered from the closet.

                “You are his emissary?” Clara eyed the man wearing plaid over a Captain America shirt and giggled s bit.

                “I am. Which, I assume, makes you Clara,” Stiles kneeled down to greet her properly.

                “You saved Peter,” she nodded.

                “Well, I’m pretty rad,” Stiles shrugged and looked back up at Peter.

                “I told him he was gonna take a really long nap. He didn’t believe me and said that if he did then I would get a piggy back ride,” she explained.

                “That sounds like a bet that he just has to repay before we leave,” Stiles grinned.

                “Fine,” Peter faked exasperation, “Let’s go outside and we can play for a few minutes. Is that alright?” He looked to Stiles who agreed and shoved them both out the door. He watched them through the upstairs window while Peter and Clara played in the backyard, Stiles eventually pulled himself away to finished packing up Peter’s things. He found the Deadpool comic on the ground in the corner of the room and found the corner dented form where it hit the wall. He felt cold immediately wondered if Peter got the wrong idea. Maybe Peter thought he was making fun of him. They would talk about it and everything would be ok. Hopefully. Because Stiles really needed Peter to understand what he felt for the man.

 

                Derek and Lydia were exhausted so Peter and Stiles chose to drive for the first stretch of the trip. They rented a large SUV that had seats which could fold down, creating a sort of bed. Derek and Lydia were all wrapped up in the back as Peter drove with Stiles in the passenger seat. Their plan was to drive until at least Salt Lake City, UT. They would then get a hotel room for the night. Stiles was strumming his fingers on a book he was reading while Peter focused on the road. He heard Derek faintly growl before pulling Lydia closer to him in their sleep.

                “So, I hate that you got hurt but I’m really glad I’m finally getting to spend some actual time with you,” Stiles broke the silence.

                “I suppose it was serendipitous enough,” Peter hummed.

                “By serendipitous do you mean that you were super dumb and wandered out alone into Gulah territory?” Stiles gave him a look.

                “Perhaps. But it worked out for the best. I mean, I’m not dead,” Peter chuckled.

                “Why did you wander out by yourself anyway? I know for a fact you aren’t that reckless,” Stiles pressed.

                “I was feeling…upset,” Peter revealed.

                “Was it because of the beat up comic I found?” Stiles tested.

                “…perhaps,” Peter replied.

                “Why did it upset you? I wanted it to make you smile. I was hoping you would like it,” Stiles said quietly.

                “At first I wasn’t completely upset. More taken aback by the story. I had no idea that Deadpool looked as he did under the mask and I admittedly slam the book shut when he first revealed his face. I thought you might be trying to be cruel, but thought better of it. As I read more I enjoyed the story overall. I assume you thought the bits about the werewolves were funny,” Peter mused and Stiles laughed, “But in the end, when he married that woman, she was beautiful and powerful and I suppose it made me sad.” Literally the opposite of what Stiles wanted. He reached over and grabbed Peter’s hand, fingers brushing lightly over the knuckles.

                “I didn’t mean to make you sad. I want you to be happy. I was hoping the story would cheer you up maybe. Maybe next time I’ll show you Spideypool instead,” Stiles kept his fingers wrapped around Peter’s hand.

                “It is alright. I know you didn’t intend for it to hurt me. I just – it was a grim reminder that only in fiction do people who look like me find love with people like that,” Peter said in a dejected tone.

                “But, Peter – “

                “Where are we?” Lydia groaned from the back as she untangled herself from Derek’s arms. And legs.

                “About an hour from Salt Lake City. Hungry? Need to pee? What’s the immediate need right now?” Stiles questioned.

                “Both,” she yawned and elbowed Derek until he jolted awake.

                “Mmm, what?” he looked at her.

                “Can we stop soon?” she kissed the tip of his nose.

                “Yea. I’m actually starving. Any place close?” he asked Peter.

                “There’s a series of restaurants, gas stations and a rest stop about 15 miles west of here. We can take the next exit and get our various needs met. Besides, I want a burger like it’s no one’s business,” Stiles hand was still on Peter’s and no one mentioned it the entire rest of the way, though Lydia kept giving Stiles knowing looks. Peter certainly wouldn’t flinch away from the affection, especially since he was sure he wouldn’t likely get much more.

                They ended up stopping at a strip with several food options and they all settled on a greasy spoon sort of stop. The neon sign flickered and the lighting on the inside is harsh and the smell isn’t particularly appetizing, but Stiles was insistent. They filed in and Stiles sat in a booth against the wall, Lydia sliding in next to him, forcing Peter and Derek to sit across from them. Of course, Peter is grateful because they are situated so that the scarred side of his body is against the wall instead of the rest of the restaurant. Stiles ordered a giant, greasy burger as he had announced earlier. Lydia ordered a bowl of coup with some grilled cheese, while Peter and Derek both ordered giant portions of steak and eggs. Apparently werewolf appetites are nothing to scoff at since they easily packed away more than 3000 calories without batting an eye. Stiles was almost impressed.

                “That display of gluttony was intense,” Stiles praised.

                “It wasn’t gluttony. We always eat that much,” Derek reminded.

                “True, but I’ve never really watched you eat until now. It was a glorious spectacle,” Stiles laughed.

                “You’re ridiculous,” Derek rolled his eyes.

                “This is why we grilled like 50 lbs of meat last July 4th, remember? It took me forever to marinate everything and Derek just spent the whole time squeezing my ass,” Lydia teased.

                “I – you were – “

                “I believe your very tight dress was drawing a lot of attention and he was being all possessive. Plus, you were helping to prepare an absurd amount of meat. You were probably fulfilling some sort of primal fantasy for him,” Stiles joked.

                “It probably is,” Peter chuckled.

                “Aww, don’t make fun,” Lydia kissed the air in front of her face towards Derek. He blushed and took a drink of water. Lydia, somehow, managed the break through the tough exterior that Derek had erected a long time ago. She waltzed in cool and collected and wouldn’t let Derek give her any shit. She knew what she was there for and she knew exactly how smart she was. Who knew Derek would be very much into a math whiz who ignored all the alpha glares he gave?

                Some teenagers were moving through the restaurant and took the booth adjacent to theirs. There were 3 boys and two girls. For the most part they were relatively quiet and ignored everyone else around them, only ordering coffee and pancakes. Stiles and Lydia were talking between themselves as Peter and Derek caught up on other matters. With Peter coming back with them he needed to be filled in on some particulars, like the local police force being knowledgeable of their ‘skill sets’ and the sheriff being their advocate if things got dicey. He told Peter that no one needed to have a job because they had enough money, but most pack members held down some form of employment. Lydia and Stiles both worked for the library at the local university where they both attended school. Derek was a carpenter for a shop downtown, mostly custom work. Scott was a veterinary’s assistant while he studied. Jackson didn’t work, he just went to school. Danny was a barista with Erica while Boyd worked as a bouncer at a club. Isaac and Allison both worked with the Argent’s weaponry company in various facets, but they specialized in weapons against the supernatural designed to trap instead of kill. That was Stiles’ brainchild but the Argents were on board as their history of bloodshed was necessary to start chipping away at. Peter wasn’t required to get a job, but if he needed one he was welcome to it. They were all excited to finally meet him and expecting him to stick around for awhile.

                “Yea, here that, big guy? I demand you stay here through new years,” Stiles popped a fry in his mouth.

                “That’s 3 more months,” Peter observed.

                “Exactly,” Stiles smirked. Peter laughed and found himself relaxing more into the open environment with his pack members.

                “Dude, what the fuck happened to your face?” asked a voice from the booth behind them. Peter bristled and Derek’s face turned hard almost instantaneously.

                “Who the fuck taught you manners?” Stiles spat back at them.

                “It’s just distracting. Trying to eat over here,” one of the boys cackled and gagged.

                “I could’ve easily complained about your face and smell, but I kept that to myself. Apologize and go back to whatever it was you were doing,” Stiles warned.

                “I’m not apologizing for him looking like Freddy Krueger,” the boy snarled.

                “That’s rather disappointing,” Stiles wiggled his fingers against the table, only Peter and Lydia saw. Then the group of teenagers all kept laughing before one started scratching her shoulder. Then another scratching his legs. Soon all of them were scratching wildly at various parts of their bodies and their faces twisted in distress and discomfort. One of the boys rolled up his sleeve and you could see bright red and flushed skin with small bumps littering his forearm.

                “Oh man, looks like you might have scabies. I’d get to a doctor if I were you. It’s pretty gross and irresponsible of you to go out in public with that. You could have spread it to everyone,” Stiles hummed,” You should leave.”

                “What the fuck,” a girl sniffled.

                “Yea, super weird. Bye now,” Stiles grunted as the kids scrambled out of the booth and out the door. Derek took out his wallet and paid for the meals the kids ran out on. Since Stiles was partially responsible for their ditching it wasn’t like he would let the waitress go without getting paid. 

                “Scabies? Really?” Derek raised his brows.

                “They were irritating. Scabies are irritating from my general understanding. Seemed poetic,” he shrugged.

                “You didn’t have to do that.” Peter interjected.

                “Of course I didn’t. But they didn’t have to be dicks either. Now, I want pie, then we can keep heading west and find a reasonable hotel,” Stiles moved the conversation along. He didn’t want to breakdown his motivations for defending his pack mate or man he cared for. And Peter didn’t want any words being spewed that might resemble pity, because Peter didn’t need or want pity.

                “What kind of pie?” Peter quirked.

                “Peach. Duh,” and with that they ordered a round and all indulged. After they paid the bill they made their way towards a motel 6, one of the few not completely booked for some reason. A downpour erupted overhead and they were drenched by the time they made it from the car to the lobby doors. Lydia’s red hair was plastered to her head and Stiles’ hood proved to be useless as it was soaked through.

                “We only have two single rooms left,” the clerk informed.

                “That’s fine,” Stiles smiled.

                “Really?” the dark-haired woman eyed him and Peter. Lydia was bundled deep inside Derek’s coat and it was clear they were partners, but Peter and Stiles seemed to throw her.

                “Yep. They’ll be in one room and he and I will take the other,” Stiles continued.

                “Um, ok,” the woman furrowed her brow and processed their payments while also handing out the keys, “We can get you a fold-out bed or cot if you two need.”

                “Oh, that would – “

                “We won’t be needing it. We will be sharing a bed,” Stiles interrupted Peter and started tugging him out the door.

                “You don’t have to share a bed with me, Stiles,” Peter pressed.

                “I know, but we’ve already shared a small hospital bed so sharing a queen bed will hardly matter. Besides, we are deep in Mormon country and her sour expression was priceless,” he communicated.

                “As long as you’re comfortable with it,” Peter smiled.

                “I am. Hopefully you’re comfortable with me wrapping around you like an octopus in the middle of the night. Because, I’m obviously super cuddly,” Stiles reminded and Lydia was right on his heels.

                “Ok, Derek and I have the room next to you guys. Should we all meet for breakfast around 9am before heading back out?” she asked.

                “Sounds good to me. There’s a decent looking brunch spot up the road. We can go there,” stiles sighed, “If you and Derek keep me up all night I will be absolutely livid.”

                “Har har,” Lydia snarked.

                “Don’t even pretend like you two aren’t going to completely wreck that room. I know what you guys did when we were up in Portland. The Hotel Modera left some very irate messages about the state you left the bed. And desk. And shower. Kinky and sloppy bastards,” Stiles poked her in the shoulder. Lydia blushed and saw Derek sort of scowling at Stiles.

                “It wasn’t that bad,” Derek mumbled.

                “We had to pay to replace all the bedding and the desk. Don’t even kid,” Stiles continued to taunt.

                “I’ll keep him reigned in. Promise,” Lydia grinned.

                “I don’t believe you for one second but ok,” Stiles hauled his bag over his shoulder and Peter unlocked the door. They parted and entered their room. Stiles was pleasantly surprised by the set up in the room. The carpet was soft, softer than he expected. And it was decorated in a sleek and modern motif. The colors were warm, sort of cream and dark red with some marigold. There was one large bed, two side tables, a desk, a breakfast nook table with two chairs, and a bathroom.

                “Wow. Not bad. Most hotels are pretty icky,” Stiles placed his bag on the floor by the bed.

                “I’ve definitely stayed in nicer. But also in much worse. We’ve fared quite well,” Peter scanned the room. He double checked the locks on the windows and toed off his boots by the door.

                “Thanks to the vast Hale fortune I’ve been able to stay in some swanky digs whenever I do manage to leave Beacon Hills. Never been further than Oregon until now,” Stiles proclaimed and removed his shoes and wet hoodie. His t-shirt was clinging to his frame and Peter was watching him move closer to the bed. He started to unbutton his pants when he remembered that it might be considered inappropriate.  

                “Oh, um, I’m super cold and wet. I thought I’d take a hot shower unless you want to take one first?” Stiles asked.

                “You can go. Werewolf heat. I’ll dry off and be just fine,” Peter smiled.

                “Ok, sweet. I’ll shower up and then maybe we can get cozy and bed and watch a movie together?” he suggested.

                “I’d like that,” Peter bowed his head and began to pull off his own wet shirt. He turned his back and Stiles moved towards the bathroom. But he looked over his shoulder to see Peter’s bare torso. Scars trailed down his neck and back, but the man was still muscular and firm. Stiles wondered what his skin felt like and how warm his might be wrapped up against the bare flesh. He swallowed and entered the bathroom before closing the door.

 

                Peter was lying on the bed in a black t-shirt and soft-looked blue sleeping pants. Stiles stepped out wearing a dark, grey t-shirt and black sleeping pants. His hair was still damp and tasseled on his head. Peter thought he looked adorable and immediately wanted to pull him into the bed.

                “Any good movie options?” Stiles plopped onto the other side of the bed and pulled the covers back. Peter pulled up the covers on his side too and slipped underneath. The lights were turned low and the overall mood in the room was relaxed.

                “There’s a _Supernatural_ marathon on one channel I found. _Walking Dead_ marathon on another. I did find _Iron Man_ as well. I figured I would leave it up to you,” Peter tossed Stiles the remote.

                “These are some very tough choices. Which of those have you not seen?” Stiles sought.

                “I’ve seen _Iron Man_ , and I’ve seen some of _The Walking Dead_ , but I have no idea which season it was or anything like that. It was when I was with that pack in Georgia. Someone was watching it and I watched some. Never seen _Supernatural_ though, but I have heard you practically wax poetic about it,” he chuckled.

                “Supernatural it is. Plus, its appropriately homoerotic,” Stiles laughed and burrowed deep into the blankets. Peter fluffed his pillows and leaned back as well. They turned off all the lights and turned to the right channel. They were only on episode 9 of the first season so Stiles caught him up with the general plot. Peter thought it was rather hilarious that he loved a show so much where the subject matter was about hunters tracking down and killing people that would be his friends and family. They enjoyed it all the same and spent some time arguing about how effective or ineffective some of the interventions were. Plus, some general disagreements about lore, after about 4 episodes Stiles was asleep with his head on Peter’s chest. He hadn’t even noticed them getting closer on the bed to the point where Stiles was fully pressed to Peter; head on his chest with a hand up Peters shirt, fingers lightly grazing the skin above his navel. He kissed the top of Stiles’ head and shut everything off so they could both fall asleep.

 

                It was 5am when Peter awoke the a very warm and wet feeling along his jaw and neck. He became very aware of Stiles still pressed up against him but one hand was hovering right along the waistband of his pants. Stiles’ lips were gently peppering kisses along his jaw.

                “Stiles?” Peter whispered.

                “Peter,” Stiles moaned and pressed harder against him. He could feel Stiles’ erection against his leg. As soon as he noticed all the blood rushed to his groin.

                “Stiles. What are you – “

                “Peter, please,” his voice was breathy, “Want you so much. Wanted you for such a long time.”

                “Are you – but – are you sure?” Peter stuttered. Stiles hand was teasingly tracing circled along the skin right above his cock, toying with the dark hair.

                “God yes. You’re so perfect. Eyes are so pretty,” Stiles turned Peter’s jaw and finally kissed him on the mouth. His lips were so soft and feeling Stiles all over him was everything he had ever dared to dream. Peter rolled and braced his arms on either side of Stiles’ head. He licked along the seam of those pink lips and pushed in, their tongues slid against each other as the kiss deepened. Peter hadn’t kissed anyone since before the fire. He had many lovers before he got married, men and women, and he hoped he was still as skilled as he had been. Their hips rocked together and Peter had to choke back a moan. Stiles was tugging at his shirt and trying desperately to get them both naked.

                “Too many clothes, Peter,” he whined. Peter obliged by stripping off his own shirt and working off Stiles’. The boy was perfection underneath him; body was lithe and lean, but toned. His skin was so pale and beautiful that he wanted to lick every inch. He bends down to lick a long stripe up Stiles’ neck and leaves a small bite where his shoulder meets his neck. Stiles whimpers and writhes, hips still rubbing together with filthy motions.

                “You smell amazing,” Peter groaned and started scenting him all over. He was falling back on some instincts and marking him wherever he could. He kept pressing his face to all exposed areas and found himself focusing in on the tattoos that decorated his body. There was a lunar cycle on the inside of his right forearm, from elbow to wrist. On his shoulder there was a magpie. Just above his hip on the left side there was some script in polish. His polish wasn’t great but Peter could tell it said something about love and magic. He let his tongue follow the ink and saw them faintly glow in the dimly lit room. Stiles gasped and sat up to seize Peter’s mouth again.  Stiles pushed him back and straddled the wolf. He wrapped his long arms around Peter’s neck and brought them as close together as possible. He felt the firm muscles in front of his and squeeze his biceps.

                “Can I have you? Please, Peter,” Stiles began to bite and lick along Peter’s neck again and rolled his hips against the older man. He then reached up and started kissing along the scars on Peter’s face. The man stiffened and his heart rate managed to increase even more. He was torn between completely locking up or pushing the younger man away. “No. No, stop that. Love every inch of you. Why do you think I sent you that comic? You could be covered head to toe in scar tissue and jagged lines and I wouldn’t care. You’re so wonderful and just the best thing that ever happened.” Stiles moved his hands to cup Peter’s jaw and pressed their foreheads together.  

                 “Stiles, I – no one has touched me since. I don’t think I deserve – “

                “God damn Hales and their endless supply of guilt and self-loathing. Christ,” Stiles sat back and turned the lamp on brighter to look Peter in the eyes and better read his expressions, “Derek was this bad too, ya know. When Lydia and him first started…flirting? I’m not sure what to call it exactly. Derek was definitely wary of any potential dalliance and did not know what to make of Lydia’s attentions towards him. The first time they kissed I ended up getting a call from Lydia because Derek had some sort of panic and shoved her away before turning full shift and bounding out into the night. Because we live in a gothic horror novel. He didn’t think he deserved her what with her ridiculous brain and even more ridiculous everything else. He still blames himself for that fire and that guilt won’t go away any time soon, but he has gotten so much better. Sometimes…sometimes you need to let someone else love you when you can’t find it in you to love yourself. Lydia sort of pieced him back together. Maybe you should let someone do the same for you.”

                “Oh? And you want to do that?” Peter tensed.

                “Of course I do. I don’t just astral project myself for anyone. I thought about doing it before, ya know. All the time. I thought about just projecting myself into your room every other night just to see you. But, boundaries and all that. I hate that you were attacked but I love that I can finally see and touch you,” Stiles whispered.

                “I was afraid you would just reject me when you saw my face,” Peter revealed.

                “Never. But you could just pretend I have a very aggressive scar kink if that makes you feel better,” Stiles laughed, trying to lift the mood some.

                “I suppose that would explain your fixation on Wade Wilson,” Peter chuckled.

                “I should have you read Spideypool fanfiction. It would blow your mind,” Stiles and Peter were both more relaxed and resting against each other. Stiles was still in the older man’s lap and lazily running his fingers up and down his well-muscled arm, “Speaking of blowing…” Stiles snickered and blew against the shell of Peter’s ear.

                “Incorrigible,” Peter wrapped his arm’s tight around Stiles’ waist and pulled them closer together. Stiles grinned almost wolfishly and kissed his way down Peter’s body. He licked along the older man’s abs and down his Adonis line. His nose ran along the dark trail of hair that disappeared below the waistband of his briefs. He hooked his thumbs and finally pulled them down, Peter’s hard cock bouncing out and resting against his stomach. It was huge and Stiles was immediately salivating.

                “Holy shit. You can’t be real. Need that in me soooo bad,” Stiles groaned and wrapped his long fingers around it. He ghosted his lips over it before giving lit kitten licks to the cockhead and slipping his tongue into the slit. Peter hissed and grabbed at Stiles’ hair. Stiles took this as encouragement and engulfed the entire cock to the hilt. His tongue swirled around the tip as he moved his head down. He deep throated like it was the last thing he wanted in his mouth. Peter looked down and saw Stiles’ pink and wet lips wrapped around his erection and had to still his hips to not fuck into the boy’s mouth. He could feel Stiles’ throat swallowing and tightening around his tip and he was about to fall over the edge. Then Stiles’ hands came to slowly fondle his balls and Peter was nearly shouting.

                “Oh, Stiles!” he moaned out and emptied all over Stiles’ tongue. He had wanted to warn him but it came so hard and fast he couldn’t stop himself, not that Stiles seemed to mind as the emissary was swallowing every last drop that fell in his mouth. When he finally pulled back and Peter’s spent cock slipped from his lips he looked thoroughly debauched. Peter rushed forward and shoved Stiles on his back while also ridding him of his bottoms. He lifted Stiles’ knees and spread his thighs before immediately burying his face between Stiles’ ass cheeks, tongue lapping at the tight rim he found there. Stiles unleashed a broken sound and gripped the sheets below. Peter fucked his tongue into Stiles’ entrance and started slowly stroking his length. He loved feeling the boy writhe under his ministrations. He tasted everything that was Stiles on his tongue, which was electricity, fire, and cloves. He wanted to devour his completely. He started stroking Stiles faster and firmer and had to use his other hand to keep Stiles’ hips on the bed as he kept trying to fuck up into Peter’s fist. But Peter loved holding him down and pushing him over the edge with his tongue.

                “Pe – Peter. Please. Need to cum,” Stiles begged. Peter smiled against the flesh in front of him and pressed one finger into Stiles, finding the prostate right away. He let his fingers brush over it again and again while continuing to stroke him off and resting his face against the warm skin. Not another 45 seconds later Stiles was arching his back right off the mattress and came all over this stomach and chest. Both were breathing heavily. Peter climbed up and began licking all the cum off the painted skin before him. Stiles just let him and melts on the bed. Soon Stiles is clean and Peter is blanketing him completely. They pulled the blanket up to cover them and they lovingly nuzzled each other. They soon fell back asleep completely entangled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally make it back to Beacon Hills.

                It was 9am when a loud pounding woke both men from their deep sleep. Stiles just pulled the blanket over his head and Peter smiled at his grogginess. He pulled on his pajama pants and a long sleeve shirt before answering the door. He was greeted by a chipper looking Lydia who presented him with 2 cups of coffee and just walking into the room. She smiled brightly at Peter before tugging at the blanket Stiles was currently hiding under.

                “Come on, time to wake up. I did my best to put Derek in a better mood but he seemed to be very cranky when he woke up this morning. Something about someone in the room next to us having very loud sex at 5am,” she teased.

                “Oh my god,” Stiles gasped from beneath the covers.

                “Drink your coffee,” she poked him.

                “My hero,” he peaked out form the blanket and started drinking away.

                “I, for one, am pleased you finally got laid and told each other how you feel. Now I don’t have to follow you around the house when you talk to Peter to extinguish your little, magical accidents because you get so excited,” she grinned.

                “What?” Peter raised a brow and sipped his drink.

                “Whenever Stiles talk to you he paces all over the house. Books will float, candles will light themselves, things will turn on, stuff like that. But he’s so deep in Peter-land he just doesn’t realize it. It’d be cuter if it wasn’t a distraction for the rest of us. Stiles was blushing and Peter beamed.

                “You never told me that,” Peter tilted his head.

                “Wasn’t sure how to bring it up,” Stiles mumbled. Derek was coming through the door and he stared all of them down while taking a deep breath. He turned to give Peter a long look before turning his attention to Stiles.

                “You are too loud,” Derek stated plainly as he continued to focus on the emissary.

                “Am not,” Stiles countered with mock outrage.

                “I’m not complaining,” Peter spoke into his cup and made his way towards the bathroom to wash up.

                “You’re louder than me. My bedroom is down the hall from yours and I hear you guys at least 80% of the time,” Stiles pressed and yawned as well.

                “Not the same,” Derek grumbled.

                “Yes, the same,” Stiles furrowed and looked for his shirt.

                “Impressive marks,” Lydia teased and poked one of the darker bites on his collar bone.

                “God, I hope these take forever to fade,” Stiles hummed and pulled on his Captain America shirt with a dark blue plaid over shirt.

                “Should we expect more repeats when we get back to Beacon Hills?” Lydia sought.

                “If I have anything to say about it then yes. And often,” he winked at Peter who was brushing his teeth in the bathroom, the older wolf blushed briefly before turning to the sink.

                “Grand,” Derek huffed, “How long until you guys are ready? I want to hit the road soon. The less time we are travelling the better.”

                “Give me like 15 minutes. We can just hit a drive-thru on the way out of town. No need to stop for a long meal,” he replied.

                “Ok. Good. I’ll check us out and expect you two to meet us at the car,” Derek gently pulled Lydia from where she perched on the bed and took her out of the room. Stiles kept his mouth shut about the fact that Derek’s hand never left Lydia’s ass the entire departure or the fact that she had an equally impressive hickey barely hidden under her hair.

                “Did you mean what you said? Or were you just taunting Derek?” Peter asked as he changed into a black Henley with a dark red sweater.

                “About the continued and frequent sex back home?” Stiles tilted his head, Peter nodded, “Duh. We haven’t even had full on penetrative sex and I want that with you fairly desperately. I meant it last night when I said I really like and care about you. Maybe I even love you or whatever. Don’t ask me to dissect my feelings.”

                “No dissection required. My feelings might reflect yours,” Peter walked up to him slowly and leaned forward to kiss him firmly. Stiles preened and pulled him in for a longer and more exploratory one, tongues quickly finding each other. They parted just as quick as they knew Derek would not be above chastising them further. Plus, Stiles promised they could cuddle and make out when it was Derek’s turn to drive anyway. They managed to make it out onto the road in record time and continue their journey back to California. It took them another day and a half before arriving back in Beacon Hills. Derek and Stiles bickered a good portion of the way while Lydia got to know Peter better. The one more night spent in a hotel was unfortunate as there was only one room available where they stopped. Not wanting to drive any further that night they just dealt with it. It at least had two beds so Stiles could wrap around Peter in the night. Of course, he got handsy and cornered Peter in the bathroom to give him a blow job, which greatly upset Derek. Derek retaliated by shoving Lydia up against the opposite side of the bathroom door to eat her out. In the end everyone sort of got what they wanted. Peter joked with Lydia that they should pin the boys against each other more often if it was going to result in competitive oral sex.

                By the time they made it back to Beacon Hills it was late enough that everyone just wanted to go to sleep. Now Peter fell nervous as he was not sure where he was expected to sleep and he wasn’t overly looking forward to sleeping out in the open on the couch in the living room. He began to set his things down by a chair in the common area until Stiles tugged on his jacket.

                “Did you think you were going to sleep down here?” Stiles gaped.

                “I didn’t want to necessarily intrude on your private space so soon and I don’t exactly have aa room here,” Peter shrugged.

                “You do. Technically. Have a room here, that is,” Stiles mumbled and bit his lower lip.

                “I do?” Peter questioned with a raised brow.

                “Yea. When we restored the house we restored your old room too. Including your extremely spacious, private bathroom. I’ve been in it since I moved in. But you can totally have it back. I could bunk with Isaac,” Stiles offered.

                “You don’t have to give up your room,” Peter frowned.

                “But it’s your room. I even decorated it similarly to how it was from pictures. Even got most of your old books replaced. I did upgrade the bed though,” he smiled.

                “Even if it is my room it hasn’t been for years – “

                “Then how about I just invite you up to the room and we both sleep in the bed instead of arguing about it at 12:42am?” Stiles stepped forward and took Peter’s hand in his.

                “Alright,” Peter whispered and followed Stiles up the stairs like he didn’t remember the entire layout of the house. When they reached the top floor they walked right to his old room. The door fell open and Peter was confronted with warm memories and overwhelming comfort. Stiles had, in fact, painted it a very similar color, the floors were hardwood with deep, blue area rugs. The walls were a cool grey and midnight blue wainscoting. The four-poster bed had more pillows than he would’ve used but Stiles seemed the type to burrow and cling. He set his bag on the hope chest at the end of the bed as Stiles closed and locked the door behind him.

                “I magically soundproofed the room. I can hear everyone else but they can’t hear me. Sometimes I’ll soundproof Derek and Lydia’s room for my own sanity too,” Stiles toed off his shoes and started stripping without any preamble, “If you go into the bathroom you’ll see I restored the old, claw foot tub. It’s beautiful porcelain and it felt almost criminal to wreck it or just replace it with something plastic with jets.”

                “Oh. That’s great, actually. I am rather fond of baths, myself. I picked it out originally with every intention of lazing away in it when Talia pissed me off,” Peter recalled.

                “Feel free to give it a whirl. I’m not just ready for bed anyway. Might read a bit. Turn down the bed so we can both snuggle nicely,” the spark added.

                “That might be nice. I haven’t really done that since…it’s been a long time,” he walked into the bathroom and was blown away by the detail Stiles put into it. All the brushed copper and soft cream colors were stunning. He added a steam shower on the other side of the toilet. The counter had two sinks with an additional cabinet. It looked like Stiles only used half the space allotted. Peter turned on the faucet and plugged the tub so it could fill up to his liking. He could hear Stiles puttering around in the bedroom; the rustle of fabric and quiet breathing was soothing.

                Peter stripped in front of the mirror slowly and watched his scars slowly reveal themselves. He still wasn’t sure how Stiles stomached it. “I can hear you doubting yourself in there. Stop it,” he heard from outside the bathroom door. Peter chuckled to himself and stepped back into the bedroom quickly.

                “I was unaware you could hear my thoughts,” he spied Stiles lying on the bed with his head propped up on his hands. He was giving Peter a loving and focused gaze.

                “I just knew you might start getting a little insecure being back here,” Stiles offered.

                “Perhaps. The burns…I’ve had a long time to adjust to them. I almost went mad when I woke up in the hospital with them. I felt rage and indignation and overwhelming sadness. Most of those feelings are gone now, or at least lessened. I accept that my body cannot manage to heal these marks, but I can manage them a bit more now,” he revealed. Stiles rose from the bed and approached Peter. He took his hands and laced their fingers together.

                “The scars never bothered me. Even if I had seen you before I ever talked to you – you would have slain me with those eyes of yours,” Stiles praised.

                “I think you might be a sweet talker,” Peter laughed.

                “Maybe,” he pressed a kiss to Peter’s lips, then nose, then cheeks, and covered his entire face and neck with attention. Peter tugged Stiles into the bathroom and pushed him up against the sink. He traced his nose along Stiles’ jaw and neck before pushing up his shirt.

                “Why don’t we get the smell of truck stop bathrooms off ourselves,” Peter purred and Stiles giggled let the wolf undress him. Soon both were entirely nude and Peter shut off the water. Stiles watched Peter’s backside without shame and gave him a faint wolf whistle.

                “Are you sure you’re not a teenager?” Peter joked.

                “Nah. But my sense of humor has been known to err on the side of childish,” Stiles grinned and ran some fingers down Peter’s firm chest. The older man stepped back into the tub and extended his hand to Stiles. Stiles took his hand and settled into the tub, his back to Peter’s chest. They relaxed into the warm water and lazily trailed fingers down limbs and kissing slowly as the steam rose around them. Stiles had unscented soap that Peter was both surprised by and grateful for. He washed Stiles’ back and neck first, pressing his fingers into the tense muscle and let the boy shudder under his touches. Stiles let out moans and whimpers while Peter cleaned and worked him over. He rinsed off his back, then Stile’s turned around. Peter began to wash Stiles chest while he washed Peter’s in kind. They fell into small bouts of laughter at the tenderness of the situation. Neither of them had ever really thought of themselves as gentle; Stiles had always been fast and chaotic while Peter was sharp and precise. But now they were exploring each other as if they were handling something increasingly fragile. Stiles motioned for Peter to turn around so he could get his back. He repeated the motions Peter had taken on him and worked the corded muscle beneath the skin. Peter pressed back to Stiles and began to whisper loving words at the attention he was being given.

                The water was cooling and the duo climbed out of the tub and dried each other with the towels. Stiles toyed with Peter’s hair and ran his fingers through it several times. The wolf practically purred like a cat as Stiles dragged his nails across his scalp. They turned to face each other and kissed more, Peter’s larger hand moving down to cup Stiles’ ass, pulling the cheek from the other. Stiles moaned a bit at that and rubbed their groins together. Peter lifted Stiles and carried him to the bed. Peter spread the boy’s legs and held them apart with his hands. Stiles looked up at him with hunger as Peter bent down to bury his nose at the juncture of his legs and hips. Every candle in the room lit as he felt Peter’s tongue make patterns on his skin. Peter loved the taste of Stiles on his tongue, his flesh was sweet and heavy in his mouth. He licked along the base of Stiles’ cock before dragging his tongue up the entire underside and taking all of him in his mouth. Stiles had to keep himself as still as possible so he didn’t fuck up into the wolf’s mouth. Peter hummed and moaned around the cock in his mouth and Stiles grabbed at Peter’s hair and shoulders. He pulled off Stiles with a loud pop and crawled up the boy’s body, kissing his stomach and chest along the way.

                “Please fuck me, Peter,” Stiles begged.

                “Anything for you, sweetheart,” Peter licked his neck. Stiles flailed his hand in the direction of the nightstand and Peter opened the top drawer to find the lube. He quickly coated his fingers before slowly circling Stiles’ rim. He moved around it gently and barely pressing his fingers in. Stiles whined as Peter teased him.

                “God. Please. I need you so bad,” Stiles bit Peter’s shoulder.

                “I need you more, I believe. I have spent many nights awake imaging you beneath me like this. And riding me until your voice is gone. This is a dream,” Peter revealed as he finally breached Stiles with two fingers, spreading him open.

                “Oh!” Stiles gasped, “I am going to ride you. Want you to bruise my hips with your hands. Want to feel you inside me for days.”

                “That can be arranged,” Peter grinned before flipping them. It took Stiles a second to regain his sense of equilibrium before finding Peter’s fingers in his ass again, thrusting in and out slowly. Stiles ground down against them and rolled his hips, trying to bring the fingers deeper. He grabbed the lube and slicked up Peter’s erection and pressed his thumb to the cockhead and watched Peter’s mouth drop open. He bat Peter’s fingers away from his entrance and hovered over the lubed member. He locked eyes with Peter as he slowly sank down onto it. He bottomed out and inhaled sharply, the tip of his cock nestled right against the spark’s prostate.

                “You’re perfect,” Stiles moaned as he slowly rose up and back down again, “You fit so perfectly.”

                “Tight. Fuck. You feel absolutely amazing,” Peter brought both hands to Stile’s lower back and then cupping both globes of his ass, helping him move. Stiles brought his face closer to Peters and they kissed soft and lovingly while he continued to move his hips up and down.

                

                “I’m afraid I won’t last long,” Peter huffed out.

                “That’s ok,” Stiles smiled, “It’s been a long time since I had sex with another person too.” They continued to kiss and Peter began to fuck up into Stiles as the younger man rolled his hips. Peter felt the knot begin to swell and he panicked for a minute.

                “I’m – my knot – I can pull out – “

                “Don’t you dare, Peter. Please give me your knot. God. Fuck. Want that with you so bad,” Stiles sped up his hips even more and bared down hard on Peter. He felt the knot swell even more near his rim and soon he felt so full. The pressure against his prostate grew and he let it rub back and forth until he felt his balls tighten, “Gonna cum, Peter.”

                “I want to see you cum. Come on. Cum for me, baby,” Peter flushed all over as he watched Stiles fall apart. The emissary arched his back and came in hot bursts across them both. He tightened around Peter’s knot and he fell right over the edge with him. He could feel himself emptying deep inside Stiles. They kissed again and rolled so they were both on their sides looking at each other.

                “You feel so good inside of me,” Stiles hummed.

                “You feel even better around me,” Peter smirked.

                “We can do this again, right? Like every day?” Stiles brushed his thumb across Peter’s cheek bone.

                “I hope so,” he replied.

                “When this goes down I expect to be the little spoon all night,” Stiles kissed the tip of Peter’s nose.

                “Sounds perfect,” the wolf breathed out.

                “I do love you. Have for awhile,” Stiles finally pushed.

                “I’ve loved you too. For years. Never have I been more happy to have been attacked by an insufferable bitch in the middle of nowhere,” Peter laughed.

                “Fate. Mysterious ways. Blah blah blah. Got you now. And you aren’t going anywhere,” Stiles let Peter’s arms wrap around him. They fell asleep like that, not caring that they were tied together and covered in semen. Peter drew the blankets around them during the night and they slept well past sunrise. They could hear everyone downstairs waking up. Peter wasn’t even worried about meeting them anymore. He had Stiles.        

 

                The next evening Peter was finally introduced to the entire pack and Stiles’ father. They had a large dinner where he was able to finally engage face-to-face with all the people he had only ever heard over the phone. Lydia teased Stiles about something happening last night that must have caused every candle and light in the house to light up. Later a deputy stopped by. Parrish. He flirted with Stiles somewhat openly, leaving the wolf to growl under his breath. Peter simply moved to Stiles side and slipped his hand into his back pocket to give his ass a squeeze, gave him a quick kiss, and watched Stiles blush when he retreated back to Derek. Parrish got the message and Stiles got the exact sort of relationship he had been wanting. Stiles had Peter move into the room with him without another thought. Peter proposed a year later.


End file.
